


After the Fall

by vials



Category: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011), Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - John Le Carré
Genre: Gen, because of course, mentions of Bill Haydon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-16 01:24:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9267497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vials/pseuds/vials
Summary: In the chaos following Bill Haydon's exposure, the Circus has never known such uncertainty. For Peter, trying desperately to pretend that he's come to terms with the betrayal, the stillness and the silence doesn't make for good company. Thankfully, George Smiley does.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline-wise, this is set after everything in _Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy_ , but before the events of _The Honourable Schoolboy_.

The late nights were always the worst. Peter had never been a fan of them, but now it was worse than ever. At least before the fall there had been some kind of activity that he could get himself involved in, or at the very least it would be reassurance that he wasn’t alone. Now the empty hallways seemed to taunt him, and the darkness behind the many doors served as a constant reminder that after all these years, the Circus finally had to sleep sometime.

Peter didn’t think he was a very nostalgic man. It was alright to remember the good times, but certainly not appropriate to long for them. Yet that was what he found himself doing, walking aimlessly down hallways, remembering when they were well-walked even at this time and when the walls and ceilings weren’t peppered with holes and stripped wiring. The whole place looked abandoned, the state it was in and the furniture and files strewn every which way, like everyone had cleared out in an emergency and never come back. 

“Damn it,” Peter muttered, addressing an absent yet still ever present audience. “You really ripped the soul out of this place, didn’t you?”

There was nothing else for it – he would have to go home. It was the awkward part of the evening where there was no point in staying or leaving; the time until he had to be back making it too long to stay but too short to leave. The main factor in his decision was the emptiness of the place, and how he knew he wouldn’t be able to endure it without giving in to more pointless reminiscing. He was turning into Connie, bless her, and all her talk of the glory days. 

He took the stairs because the thought of standing still in the lift for even a moment was too much to bear. Peter craved motion, needing to keep moving when everything around him was so still. The stairs were even more of a mess than the hallways, what with all the electrical connections joining in the walls and bringing the halls together; there were huge parts missing from the walls and wires piled up on the ground, the smell of plaster still in the air. Peter thought it was probably an accident waiting to happen, if enough people still walked around to make it a risk.

He passed the lift on his way out, not paying it any attention until he became aware that it was moving. For a moment he was seized with suspicion, maybe even fear, his mind incapable of conceiving anyone else could possibly be here after what he had seen – perhaps his imagination was running away with the sense of abandonment, convincing him that the whole place really had been given up for dead. The lift opened then and Peter felt immediately idiotic when he saw Smiley’s unmistakeable figure; of course he would still be here at this time. Peter’s main question now was what he was doing _leaving_. The last he had checked, Smiley had been sleeping in his office, under that infuriating portrait of Karla.

Smiley looked half asleep, which wasn’t altogether surprising. These days, Peter thought the man could probably fall asleep on his feet if he stood still long enough.

“I should have known you’d still be here,” Peter said, waiting until Smiley had caught up with him. The smaller man seemed to move stiffly at first, as though he had been sitting for so long his body had forgotten how, but as they moved toward the fresh air some of the life seemed to return to him. 

“I’m surprised you are. Didn’t I send you home hours ago?”

“You advised it,” Peter said. “But I still had some things to look over. I didn’t realise it was so late. Time seems to stand still in this place.”

The atmosphere outside conspired to prove him right. They stepped out into a noticeable but not uncomfortable breeze, bringing with it specks of rain. Somewhere in the distance there was traffic, though thanks to the muffling of the wet roads, it could have been miles away. 

“Where are you going?” Peter asked, remembering that Smiley wouldn’t be heading home. 

“Nowhere in particular,” Smiley answered. He paused as they stepped onto the pavement, blinking slowly around as though having to reorient himself. “Sometimes the stillness of the place gets to me. I get the urge to walk.”

“Should I leave you to it, then?” Peter asked, as they began ambling up the street. The rain was heavier now, though still so misted that it didn’t make a sound as it hit the floor.

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Smiley replied, watching him for a moment. “You look like you could use the wandering yourself.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong,” Peter admitted, remembering the heaviness of the building they had left. Quite suddenly he wished it were later still, where there would be the crawl of traffic and the hurry of pedestrians to keep them company. “I never realised how thoroughly unnerving that place was at night. I suppose you don’t notice it as much, seems you’re usually the only one in your office, but _sheesh_. I can see why no one chooses to stay late.”

Smiley gave what might have been a smile, if he’d let it get that far. There was a slight crinkle by his eyes, as though some part of it had survived. 

“Don’t be so melancholic. It was never a hive of activity at this time.”

“It was never so dead, either.”

“You could say that about the day, too. I doubt we even qualify as a skeleton crew at the moment.”

Smiley’s tone was amicable, and Peter had no idea how he acknowledged such truths with that kind of lightness. It wasn’t as though it was something that could be ignored, of course – the absence of people was obvious even in the day, and someone would have to be deliberately deluding themselves if they didn’t notice it. But to hear it so openly acknowledged left Peter feeling uncomfortable, especially coming from Smiley of all people. He was possessed with the sudden childlike urge to beg for reassurance; to ask Smiley if he thought things would ever get better. Not if they would ever be the same, because everyone knew the answer to that, but to ask if they would ever recapture any of their former glory. It seemed truly impossible. 

“He had his finger in every bloody pie, didn’t he?” Peter said angrily. He had meant to refer to Haydon by name, but his courage failed him at the last moment.

Smiley didn’t seem to suffer from the same problem. 

“Haydon? Yes, he did. Regrettably.” 

“By the time we finish unravelling everything, there’ll be nothing left.”

“Probably not,” Smiley confirmed, still pleasantly. 

“Does that not concern you?” Peter demanded, though he knew it was an unfair question. 

“Why wouldn’t it concern me?”

“I suppose I just envy how calm you seem. I don’t understand how you can look at this mess and acknowledge so matter-of-factly.”

“Well, I see no use in shying away from the facts. Perhaps the first thing to do – the most important thing to do – is to acknowledge the bare facts. Isn’t that an important part of intelligence? How can we see the bigger picture if we’re unable to acknowledge the components that make it up?”

The rain began to turn from mist into drops, and Peter watched them spatter the pavement in front of him, frowning. 

“All our work operates on the hope of a payout,” he eventually said. “What’s the point in arranging all the evidence and facing the facts if it’s just going to lead you to greater ruin?”

He could practically feel Smiley thinking over his words, and the lack of an immediate response frustrated him. He didn’t know why, because it was usual for Smiley to think on things before he spoke, sometimes for several minutes, no matter how intense the conversation. There was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about it, but Peter still prickled angrily, as though Smiley’s silence was simply confirmation of everything he feared. 

“Not to mention the fact that the Cousins are still sniffing around,” he burst out, when the silence went on for too long. “Oh, they’re going on about how the trust has been shattered and how we’re going to have to reconsider the blasted _special relationship_ but on the other hand they want to know bloody everything without giving us a thing in return. Seems kind of unfair to me. You can tell they just want whatever we have left and then they’re going to piss off and leave us to it.”

“They’re simply concerned, Peter,” Smiley said patiently. “As they should be. A large portion of Haydon’s focus was on American affairs. I’m sure they’re just as worried as we are.”

“They’re in a much better position to deal with it,” Peter huffed. “It’s unneeded pressure.”

“It does feel that way sometimes, yes.”

They walked in silence for several minutes, Peter remaining the slightest half-step behind Smiley to allow him to lead the way. They left the streets as soon as the opportunity presented itself, finding themselves wandering through a nearby park, lit sporadically with old lamps. The light from one only just reached the light from the next; between them, the path was shrouded in shadows. Some of the turns and dips almost tripped Peter up, but Smiley seemed to be unaffected. Peter wondered how many times he had found himself here at this time of the night, chewing problems over and over with no one to hear them. 

Quite suddenly, Peter felt guilty. He took a steadying breath, and swallowed down the numerous other things he wanted to lash out into the night with; he wasn’t saying anything that Smiley didn’t already know, and he supposed that the last thing the already overworked man needed was his own people parroting his worries back at him.

It seemed Smiley had other ideas, meaning Peter was going to have to truly test his own resolve.

“For how long?” the other man asked, and for a moment Peter was thrown.

“For how long what?”

“How long were you bottling this up?” Smiley elaborated, still pleasant, as though Peter hadn’t just uttered words that in this context he was beginning to regard as treacherous. 

“I wasn’t… _bottling it up_ ,” Peter said, hoping he didn’t sound too hurried. “I suppose it’s been there and I didn’t realise it. I was blowing off steam.” He paused, blinking some rainwater out of his eyes. “I don’t actually think we’re doomed. I do hope you know that.”

“Of course I do.”

“Things just seem impossible right now, that’s all.”

“Things have seemed impossible before.”

“I know.” 

Peter thought he had more to say than that, but everything he was thinking clammed up in his throat and he found it safer to stay silent, lest Smiley hear the sudden catch he knew would be present in his voice. He felt heavy, as though picking at the subject had opened up a wound larger than he had expected and now he was powerless to stop the bleeding. He could hear Smiley thinking again; he felt suddenly exposed and tried desperately to think of something to say that would change the subject, but of course he was too late.

“It wounded you deeply, didn’t it?” Smiley asked, and under his usual conversational tone, Peter thought he detected a little caution. It was his get out of jail free card, he realised: his assurance that if he wanted to change the subject, he could. Peter thought about it, before remembering that he wasn’t like Smiley, and his silence wasn’t expected. His silence was an answer. 

“Yes,” he said, though his pause had already said it for him. “But no more than anyone else, I’m sure.”

“We all knew Bill differently,” Smiley said, and Peter noted the use of his first name. “Though I suppose that really, none of us knew him at all.”

“Precisely,” Peter said, aiming for conclusive but landing somewhere around _dejected_ instead. “That’s why I don’t see myself as all that far apart from anyone else,” he added quickly. “We were all betrayed.”

“You were close to him.”

“I was,” Peter said, and he wanted to leave it at that, but of course his mouth ran away with him. “I respected him a great deal professionally, and liked him a great deal as a friend. But I wasn’t the only one, and to be honest with you I don’t particularly see any of that as real now. It wasn’t him, was it? It was all an act.”

He managed to keep his voice level now, but in his mind he was remembering the last time he had seen Bill. If he let himself think about it too much he could still feel how effortless it had been to drag him up and shake him like that; how Bill had remained limp as a ragdoll, looking at him but not seeing him.

“For what it’s worth,” Smiley said, as they neared the edge of the park, the consistent light making the lines on his face suddenly all the more evident, “I am sorry.”

The rain hit the ground harder now; for a moment it was all Peter could hear.

“You and me both, Chief,” he eventually said, and fell silent as a gaggle of late night drinkers hurried past them, laughing in the rain. 

When they had gone, Peter and Smiley remained silent, two lone figures in a night that was suddenly even emptier.


End file.
